


Still Got A Sweet Tooth

by FoxglovePrincess



Series: Poor, Sweet, Innocent Thing [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Allusions to Organized Crime, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Branding, Character Death, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hints of DDlg, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Making Out, Marking, Multi, Murder, Named Reader, Nicknames, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Scarification, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, allusions to human trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxglovePrincess/pseuds/FoxglovePrincess
Summary: Drabbles from the life of Sugar, Bucky, and Steve.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Poor, Sweet, Innocent Thing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934077
Comments: 80
Kudos: 129





	1. Proper Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back with more. This is going to be a series of drabbles—snapshots of Sugar’s life taking place around her relationship with Bucky and Steve. Really, it’s whatever ideas I can come up with. Updates will be sporadic and non-linear for this story, just so you’re aware. And I rated the story as Explicit, though there won’t be explicit scenes in every chapter. 
> 
> I am still working on my other story (Wonder What’s Wrong With Me), but it can be kinda heavy to think about and write, so these drabbles are my break from that story when I still want to write. I’m still working on chapter 3 of that story, maybe a third of the way done and it’s slow going. So these are sort of like tide-me-overs if you’re waiting for that story, or little treats if you’re not. 
> 
> Remember to **MIND THE TAGS!**  
>  Updates will be given in the notes when applicable. But, just like the previous part of this series, there are themes of emotional abuse/manipulation along with dubious consent and morality and a whole slew of other things. The same themes apply to this story as the last, though they may not be explicitly discussed. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Your media consumption is your responsibility.
> 
> Tell what you think in the comments. If I’m missing any tags, let me know (I tried to get everything, but no one’s perfect).
> 
> UnBeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from “Sugar (Don’t Take Away My Candy)” by Jive Five.
> 
> This work is not to be reposted on any other site without my explicit permission.

My head tilts back, leaning on Wanda’s lap as she braids my hair in a crown around my head. A pulsing, steady song plays quietly in the background. I hum, purring like a sated cat as she pins hair in place and tucks faux flowers in the soft tresses.

Her hands move away from my hair, petting her fingers down my cheeks. My eyes flutter open, smiling up at the gorgeous woman above me.

“All done,” she murmurs with a gentle smile.

My lips spread in happiness, sitting up quickly while Pietro holds out a hand mirror, dazed but affectionate syllables of Russian pouring past his lips as he brushes a stray hair behind my ear. I examine the new style, quietly preening at his murmured exclamations of praise, fingers delicately smoothing the silk petals of asters and daisies. A gleeful sound rolls in my throat, my smile shining brightly at the twins, thanking them both in turn.

Jumping to my feet, I scan the room, searching for Bucky and Steve, eager to show them how pretty I look. My eyes land on them and my heart clenches in my chest, their broad figures standing off in a corner of the room, engaged in a discussion with Tony, Bruce, and Natasha.

My enthusiasm slightly deflates, agonizing over whether I should interrupt their conversation with something so trivial. My brow scrunches with worry as I debate my dilemma, praying their attention won’t be drawn to my hesitance.

“Go, malysh,” Pietro urges with a chuckle. “Unless you want them to spank you.”

My mouth dries, cheeks heating at the suggestion. Darting my eyes to Wanda, she nods her head, a silent encouragement.

I whine, high in the back of my throat and turn toward Steve and Bucky, still engrossed in their conversation. I walk slowly, glancing around the room at the others scattered about. Loki and Thor in a heated debate with Stephen, Clint bending over the couch behind Pietro to whisper something in his ear, the others congregated together around the table and a large map. My gaze snaps decidedly forward, watching my steps as I approach my destination.

Though I catch Natasha’s eye, the small group continues discussing their business matters. Something about moving product—the terminology familiar, but forbidden. I learned the hard way to never question the caregivers when they talk about work. A phantom pain aches in my back, straightening my spine unconsciously with the memory.

Sidling up behind Bucky, I reach out, wrapping my fingers in the excess material at the back of his shirt and tug lightly to catch his attention. My chin drops to my chest, teeth worrying over my lower lip as I wait for his acknowledgement.

“Babygirl?” he questions, turning to me.

Looking at him from under my lashes, I swallow my nerves. “Do you like what Wanda did to my hair, daddy?” I ask, eyes flicking over the other people gathered in this group, their eyes shining with unconcealed amusement. Discomfort prickles at the base of my neck, my feet shifting my weight as I wait for a reply.

A warm arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close to Steve’s firm chest. He brushes his lips over my cheek, humming in delight while Bucky’s smile grows on his face.

“You look gorgeous, Sugar,” Bucky coos, stepping closer and encompassing me between them. His hands reach out to cradle my neck. “So precious,” he murmurs against my lips, capturing me in a kiss.

“Did you thank Wanda, sweetheart?” Steve asks, tone syrupy and sweet like honey.

Bucky breaks away from me, raising his brows in emphasis of his husband’s question. I nod in answer, biting my lip, anticipation and dread clashing in my stomach.

“Properly?” Steve pushes, eyes flicking toward our generous host for the evening—Tony watching our every move. The blond’s arms squeeze around my middle, his hands flexing before latching onto me. I shake my head, gaze falling to the floor, heart pattering in my chest. “Then, perhaps, you should.” His voice a hushed suggestion in my ear.

A shiver dances down my spine, finding Natasha across the social circle nursing a glass of wine in her delicate grip.

“May I please thank Wanda for making me look so pretty?” I ask, nerves thrumming, whole body pulsing with them.

“Absolutely,” Natasha purrs, her eyes locked on our embrace. She saunters closer, hips swaying and exchanges a look with Bucky.

The brunet contemplates something for an extended moment, glare flashing sharp and dangerous. But, eventually, he nods once, immediately seeking out his husband. They share a silent conversation, quickly forming some conclusion, one I’m not privy to.

Steve’s hand wraps around mine, guiding me back through Tony’s open lounge and back toward Wanda, still curled up in the corner of the couch. Natasha follows close behind, an easy, sultry gait, lips smirking.

The weight of a roomful of eyes falls on my shoulders, tensing with each step I take toward the quiet woman on the couch.

When we’re just close enough, Steve’s hand gently nudges me the extra few steps forward. My hands grasp at the front of my dress, sinking into the soft navy knit and clutching it in my sweating palms.

Wanda stands, hands linked together at her back, an expectant sparkle twinkling in her eyes as they dart over my shoulder toward Natasha.

“Wanda, I wanted to thank you for making my hair so pretty. It-it was very kind of you,” I stutter, staring at her lips as they stretch into an exuberant smile.

She doesn’t respond but steps closer to me, entwining one of her hands in mine. I swallow thickly and close the distance between us.

Tilting my head, I lean forward, brushing my lips against hers. She sighs softly into my mouth and deepens the kiss, caressing her tongue against the flesh of my lower lip. My eyes flutter shut, free hand releasing my dress to rest lightly on Wanda’s shoulder.

A few muted comments break through the thump of my pulse in my ears, the attention falling on our quiet exhibition. Anxiety buzzes under my skin, waiting for that moment of too much, of overstepped boundaries, of reprimand. But it doesn’t come.

And I’m left floating in the decadence of Wanda’s kiss.

She tastes sweet, like the sugary tarts Bucky brought to the dinner tonight and the wine she was allowed to sip from Natasha’s glass. I hum in the back of my throat, craving more. My fingers dig deeper into the woman’s shoulder, getting dizzy with the tangle of our tongues and the soft, needy whimpers in Wanda’s throat.

Her hands wrap wound my waist, trailing low toward my rear. Her touch heated, yet tender and drawing me closer and closer against her figure. She squeezes the flesh of my ass, that last millimeter of space between us disappearing, her fingers dragging up the hem of my dress.

“That’s enough, girls.” Steve’s firm tone breaks through the spell, over the low buzz of people’s conversations, muttered around the room.

Immediately, I pull away from plush lips, mouth watering at the lingering saccharine taste. But I know my rules.

My feet take two small steps away, heat coiling deep in my belly. A large hand wraps around my nape, dragging my pliant body back toward Steve’s strong frame. His nose brushes against my hair, his breathing heavier than before.

“Good girl,” he praises, words husky.

My knees tremble at the tone, face turning toward him to sigh, “T-thank you, teddy.”

“God, I just love when our little family gets along, don’t you?” Tony cheers, the ice in his glass of scotch clinking when he thrusts his arms into the air. A smile spreads his lips, eyes leering over at Wanda and I.

Burrowing closer to Steve’s chest, I turn my face into the crook of his neck, dragging a shuddering breath into my lungs.

The familiar pressure of Bucky’s hand lands on my lower back, his form pressing behind me and his hands sneaking over my hips. He mutters praise in my ear, kissing behind my ear toward the hinge of my jaw.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” His fingers reach around my neck, fiddling with the charm of my necklace between his fingers, tugging it as a reminder.

“You, daddy,” I reply immediately, voice breathy, mind racing. “You and my Stevie.” The blond man groans, his hips rutting against me, his cock hardening against my thigh.

“Good,” Bucky rumbles in my ear. His fingers release the charm, smoothing over the bodice of my dress, squeezing my breasts until I bite back a cry. “Cause if you forget, I’ll have to remind you—even if we let you play with your friends, you still belong to _us_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I missed any tags, let me know and I’ll add them! 
> 
> 💜
> 
> Also, here’s my [Tumblr!](http://foxgloveprincess.tumblr.com/) If you want (and are 18+), you can send me suggestions or questions for future chapters. I’d love to hear what others want to see in this story! 😊


	2. Mark Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to a tattoo parlor, but not getting a tattoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **MIND THE TAG UPDATE!**  
>  Tags Added: Branding (Electrosurgical Branding), Marking, Scarification — This chapter will include some somewhat graphic depictions of the process, so be warned of that as well if you’re squeamish or don’t want to read it. 
> 
> Here’s another chapter of this story. Just a reminder that these chapters are not chronological in order and there’s not necessarily a set timeline for them.
> 
> Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see from this series. I’m all ears (I’ve got a list of ideas that I would love to add to.) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The neon lights in the window flash, drawing in customers who want their new piercing or tattoo. Despite the industrial interior, with exposed beams and brick, it’s a cozy place. The dark burgundy of the walls providing that familiar warmth to the rough aesthetic of the studio. Framed artwork lines the room, clustered around tables and chairs set up a certain distance apart. Accents of black leather and steel scattered throughout.

A man sits, gritting his teeth as an artist finishes a piece on his bicep, though I don’t catch the full design. Bucky guides me quickly through the studio toward a back room. My teeth worry over my lower lip, eyes glancing over my shoulder to catch sight of Steve as he trails behind us, his eyes examining the art hanging on the walls.

Bucky opens a door marked with a number 3, the walls a pleasant but boring beige, more clinical in design. A private place for clients looking for more intimate artwork, I suppose. And, according to Bucky, exactly what we’ll need today for my special modification—one not advertised on the window.

Stepping in behind the brunet, I turn to him for reassurance or instruction. He cups my cheeks in his hands, lips tilted in a small smile and eyes gleaming with adoration. Steve follows, cozying up beside me to sling his arm around my waist and nuzzle the skin of my neck with a satisfied hum.

My heart flutters, belly located somewhere near my feet. Nerves dance along my spine, but knowing my loves are with me makes everything easier to swallow.

Because Steve and Bucky have been talking about this for weeks, musing in bed about designs or running their fingers over patches of skin. Debating methods and best practices. They seldom ask my opinion on such important matters, but for this, they did. And I agreed, conceding to their request just like their best girl should. Though, the moment I did, something unidentifiable inside me fissured.

“Welcome,” a voice booms behind us, the door shutting quietly.

I jump, startled at the sudden greeting, somehow not noticing his presence in the shop. But that voice I would recognize anywhere, from ‘family’ dinners.

A smile breaks over my lips. “Hi, Thor,” I greet cheerily, turning to the tall, muscled man. He beams at me, dipping his gaze as it drifts toward Bucky.

The brunet’s hand squeezes my side, a silent warning. But I can’t hide my enthusiasm. Of all the caretakers in Tony’s syndicate, Thor is my favorite right next to Natasha. He’s one of Steve’s best friends and gives the _best_ bear hugs, when it’s allowed. And he’s never felt like a threat, not once—though darkness lurks in him, just like every other member of the family.

Steve claps Thor on the shoulder, bringing the man close for a quick, stiff hug. Bucky only mutters a low greeting, the smile on his lips straining toward a frown. His eyes flash toward his husband as Thor flips a switch on an air purifier and takes a seat, oblivious.

The two exchange glances—passing observations of the jovial man, and, more notably, my fond greeting at his arrival. Bucky’s brow furrows, obviously displeased with my familiarity and Thor’s casual nature. Steve nods brusquely, their agreement sitting in the air of the room like a heavy weight.

“Shall we begin?” Thor asks, breaking the silence and drawing a small rolling table close to his side. A generator of some sort sits on the floor, connecting to a pen-like attachment buzzing and ready for use. “I have your design, would you like to see it on her skin?”

Bucky grunts out an affirmation, pivoting my body by my hips. I lean into his touch, breathing in the scent of his cologne, teeth worrying over my bottom lip. His hands drift under my shirt, bunching the fabric over my head and tossing it toward Steve. His fingers brush over my clavicle, a light touch that shoots a shiver down my spine.

“Go sit down, baby,” Bucky instructs softly, a sweetly heated kiss pressed to my waiting lips, leaving me dizzy.

Steve stands like a sentinel at my shoulder as I sit, his eyes intent on Thor. But when my hand reaches out to weave our fingers together, he turns his attention to me with a tender smile.

“Steve,” Thor beckons, continuing his work to prepare my skin and his machine, paying no mind to the interactions occurring around him. His hand holds up a piece of paper printed with the design. My eyes focus on the distinct lines, gulping my building unease down my throat and burying it deep. “You’re an artist, you wanna place it?”

Steve agrees immediately, stepping forward while Thor makes his last adjustments. The paper sticks to my skin, Steve’s delicate fingers pressing it down and peeling it away. He leans over once he’s completed his task, holding my face as he captures my lips with an affectionate peck. My eyes squeeze shut when he steps back, bracing for the pain that should follow.

“Little one,” Thor’s hands hover over my body, the air between his palm and my skin crackling with electricity, “are you ready?”

I reluctantly nod, biting my lip and fully leaning back against the chair. Steve’s hand lands on my right shoulder, fingers tracing a lackadaisical pattern across my neck and collarbone before the weight of his hold shifts to completely restrain me.

Thor’s hand holds surely to left, the buzzing of his machine crescendoing in the quiet room. A shiver runs down my spine, stifled by the firm clutches keeping my body still. Bucky sidles up beside Steve, a fan firmly grasped in his hand.

And it begins.

Blinding pain, more torturous than anything I’ve ever felt. Thor holds me steady, Steve crooning into my ear, words of praise as tears cascade down my cheeks. It happens in bursts, a few sparking seconds at a time. My body tensing for the new wave of pain before it even begins.

But the smell. Oh, the smell. The men convey their acute discomfort in their pinched faces. The air purifier doing little as it hums away in the corner. Not even Bucky’s attempt at fanning can dispel the noxious odor of burning flesh. Were I not so focused on the unending pain, my stomach would turn in an instant.

“Halfway there,” Steve whispers into my ear, pressing a kiss to my cheek and licking his lips for the taste of my tears. “Doing so good, Sugar.”

My teeth grind together, lungs struggling with the need for oxygen as the pain distracts me from the process of breathing. Every muscle seizes and trembles with each pass of Thor’s equipment, sweat beading on my brow and gathering under my arms.

The currents of electricity shudder through my body. Dancing under my skin, the burn of it working just as it should according to Steve’s reassurances. Bucky remains quiet save for the occasional sympathetic hiss, but his hand strokes over my stomach, a touch meant to comfort.

Time passes in agony, each minute stretching into hours until finally, the brush of Thor’s breath retreats from my sensitive, clammy skin and his machine turns off. My body slumps in the chair, limp from exhaustion.

“There we are, all done,” he pronounces, with the sound of his latex gloves flopping into the trash can. “Little one, would you like to see it?” His fingers brush away the sweat damp hair from my forehead, tracing gently down my cheek.

My eyes flutter open, lungs expanding easily in my chest without the pain, though a tightness of my flesh catches my immediate attention.

I nod distractedly, looking toward Bucky and then Steve. Both stand with wide smiles stretching their lips, pride and lust shining in their eyes.

Steve helps me stand with a hand at my elbow, my knees wobbling under my weight. He guides me to the mirror, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, cuddling close.

“What do you think, princess?”

For a moment, looking in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. Completely at odds with the woman standing before me, her lover pressed to her back. Her face flickers with emotions, rapid and indecipherable.

Bucky steps up beside us, his right hand reaching around my waist to interlock fingers with Steve’s left, his other finding my hip. My gaze flashes to the steel blue of his irises as he leans his head against mine.

“All ours,” he sighs happily, “Forever.”

His fingers twitch against my hip, itching to caress the burned flesh. But the slap of new latex gloves draws his attention away.

“Time to bandage her up,” Thor suggests, still standing by the chair.

Bucky draws away with a loving kiss to my temple. Steve backs off with a final, excited squeeze around my waist. And I stand alone for a moment, realization sinking in as my eyes stare at my reflection. Or rather, the brand that now adorns the skin of my chest right over my heart, a small star surrounded by the initials S.G.R. and J.B.B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I missed any tags, let me know and I’ll add them! 
> 
> 💜
> 
> Also, if you want to drop by and say ‘hi’ or wanna have a chat or leave a suggestion, here’s my [Tumblr!](http://foxgloveprincess.tumblr.com/)


	3. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes another appearance at the café. This time, he brings a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mind the Tag Update!**  
>  Tags Added: Character Death (no main characters), Murder (non-graphic)
> 
> And we’re back with another chapter. It’s been a while. But this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I love hearing your feedback. 💜

“There we go, princess,” Steve murmurs, presenting my iced milk tea next to my sandwich and chips, a small apologetic smile on his face. “I’ve gotta go into the office for a meeting with Coulson. Will you be alright on your own, Sugar?”

A pout protrudes my lower lip, but I nod, eyes dropping to my plate and picking at the thinly sliced ham. Gentle fingers easily tip my gaze back up, Steve leaning over the copper counter to press his lips to mine.

“You be a good girl now,” he entreats, thumb brushing lightly over my jaw. “If you need help, you know exactly what to do.” He pecks my lips once more and steps away, patting Pietro on the back as he glances over his shoulder, disappearing into the hallway leading to his office.

My eyes scan over the café. It’s a busy day today, a dozen people waiting in line to place their order and tables nearly all filled. The sun shines outside, though a chill nips in the air—near perfect weather, exactly the kind that leads to a bustling café full of customers.

Sitting on my stool at the counter, I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my shirt, nerves ticking with anxiety. This is not the first time I’ve been left on my own in the café while Steve and Bucky take care of business—though that doesn’t make it any easier when I can’t see them nearby. Pietro dances around fulfilling orders, bagging baked goods and brewing drinks. Knowing he’s nearby helps, but still my skin itches.

“Sugar, it’s good to see you.”

My pulse jumps as I turn to greet Sam with a strained smile. His skin glows in the natural light coming through the windows, smile just as charming as ever. But his presence never sets me at ease anymore.

I mourn the days when I could look at Sam and see a friend, a colleague, a confidante. Now, all I see is a threat. Whether Steve and Bucky have poisoned my mind against him or he’s done it himself with his actions, I couldn’t say for certain. But ever since that first time I returned to the café, he’s been on a mission—prying, digging, poking and prodding in ways he shouldn’t. And I just can’t stand it.

Taking a sip of my tea, I avert my gaze and wait for him to either continue the conversation, or, preferably, leave.

“Look, I know I’ve been pushy the past couple times we’ve spoken,” he states, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, shoving the other into his pocket, “I’m sorry about that. I want to believe we’re still friends.” He gazes at me, waiting for a response, head tilted in expectation.

When I don’t speak, he sighs, a defeated sound humming from his lips. He takes a step closer, sliding into the seat beside mine, placing my bag over the back and out of his way. His hand finds mine and holds tight, eyes earnest as they bore into me.

“Look, Sugar,” he whispers urgently, cautiously looking around at our surroundings for eavesdroppers. When he catches Pietro’s curious glance, Sam draws us closer together, voice dropping lower, “I wanna get you out. I know that Steve and Bucky are not what they seem.” He turns slightly in the seat and nods like it’s some kind of signal to someone else.

My blood runs cold as a man approaches us, his smile fake while he scans the room, just as Sam did. He’s tall and muscled, inconspicuous in a crowd, easy to overlook—I’m guessing there’s a purpose to that.

“Sugar, this is Agent Rumlow, he works with the feds and wants to help,” Sam explains. “We’ve been talking with some sources and we’re building a case.”

My eyes widen, head shaking in denial, pulling at my hand so that Sam will release his hold. He grabs my forearm in response, cradling my face with the other.

A quiet whimper works its way up my throat, a hushed murmur of “no, no, no, no, no,” breaking over my lips. “Let me go, Sam, please,” I beg, leaning away from him.

The sound of my name—my actual name—catches my attention. “I’m Brock,” the man greets amiably, holding out his hand in introduction. My eyes narrow on the offensive appendage, glaring at this new man as he continues, “Sam has brought your predicament to our attention and it seems there’s a lot more to this than what appears at first glance. If you would just come with us down to the station—”

“No,” I cut him off, steely and resolute. I level our gazes, frown weighing down the corners of my lips.

“Sugar,” Sam pleads, turning my attention back to him, “this isn’t right. We want to protect you, take you far away and keep you safe—you’ll never have to see them again.”

“No,” I grit out through clenched teeth, halfway to a growl, halfway to tears.

“Their network is dangerous, they can’t be left to operate. People’s lives are at risk,” Brock continues softly, his brow furrowed. I will give him credit, his genuine concern radiates off him as he takes a small step closer. Though whatever his noble intentions, they’re completely wasted on me. “If you don’t come willingly, I’ll have no choice but to take you into custody.”

I bite my lip at his threat, nostrils flaring on a deep breath, anger burning within my belly. Glancing to the side, I breathe out in relief. Pietro seizing a momentary lull to rush off, away from the customers and crowd, heading toward the kitchen for a moment and back toward the office.

“We need to go,” Sam insists, catching the movement as I do, standing up and pushing Rumlow toward the door. “They’ll be out here any minute.” He turns to me, a deep sorrow shimmering in his eyes. “Sugar, you can come with us.”

“No, I can’t,” I reply with a serene, contented smile.

I turn away from their retreat, biting into my sandwich and flipping open my book to begin reading, barely noticing the jingle of the bell signaling their departure.

Mere moments later two pairs of warm arms wrap around me. I chirp in delight and offer Steve and Bucky a bite of my lunch, happy to press kisses to their pinched faces and coo reassurances as they ask what happened.

A week later, Agent Rumlow makes an appearance in Steve’s newspaper—his dead, dismembered body fished out of the Hudson River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I missed any tags, let me know and I’ll add them! 
> 
> 💜
> 
> Also, if you want to drop by and say ‘hi’ or wanna have a chat or leave a suggestion, here’s my [Tumblr!](http://foxgloveprincess.tumblr.com/)


	4. A Burning Gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugar stumbles upon quite the sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mind the Tag Update!**  
>  Updated Tags: Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, (Accidental) Voyeurism
> 
> Here’s the next drabble. I hope I did well, this is my first time writing male x male smut. Next drabble is already started so that might be popping up soon. Be on the look out. 😊 
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Creeping down the hallway, I search out Steve and Bucky, craving their presence. Down the hall a low grunt catches my attention. Our bedroom door is drawn, just a crack left open, soft warm light spilling out into my path. The sounds emanating from inside pique my curiosity, flooding my body with heat. Worrying my teeth over my lower lip, I approach silently and peek inside.

A groan greets me, Bucky and Steve on their bed, wrapped in a carnal embrace. Bucky’s hips rut languidly into Steve, the blond’s eyes squeezed shut as he moans and thrusts, his flushed cock bobbing between his legs.

Biting back a whimper, I watch their sweating bodies writhe together. Arousal pools in my belly and drips from my core, newly polished nails scraping over my thighs as I bunch my skirt in my fists. My lips part, tongue licking slowly over the parched flesh. Eyes wide and enthralled. Stomach swooping and fluttering.

Bucky’s body drapes over Steve, burying his face in his husband’s neck, teeth and tongue nipping and marking the blond’s skin. His hand grabs at Steve’s ass, clinging to him as he pistons his hips again and again.

“Bucky, Buck, please,” Steve begs, a high whine trilling in his throat, “fuck me harder. Need you.”

Bucky answers with a gravelly whispered, “of course,” and a throaty hum.

He accelerates his pace on a harsh thrust, fingers sinking into Steve’s hips and sliding to find the hard cock that bobs between his legs. The blond gasps in response, head thrown back against Bucky’s shoulder while Bucky begins to pump his length with smooth strokes.

Their moans build, growing louder, more desperate. Hips crashing against each other, thighs quivering. Steve’s torso drops to the bed, his teeth sinking into his fist to muffle his cries of pleasure.

“Bucky,” Steve moans around his knuckles, his husband’s name drawn out on a whimper that makes my knees weak and my core throb, “wanna cum. Please let me cum.”

My whole body pulses with burning desire, watching them reach higher and higher toward their climax. Their passion radiating through the room with their fervent sounds, licking over me like the flames of a wildfire. Fingers clinging to the wood of the doorjamb, I lean closer, trying to see them better through the crack, coveting an unobstructed view.

It feels invasive to watch them like this—forbidden—but I can’t pry myself away or fathom trying to occupy my thoughts with other pursuits. There’s only this—their love burning bright and searing through me like their brand on my chest.

Steve shouts, his body tensing and stretching as he cums, his spend splattering across the sheets as Bucky pounds into him, rhythm frantic, chasing his own ecstasy.

My body presses to the wall beside the door, seeking fruitlessly to alleviate the all-consuming fire, aching for their ardent touch, but reveling in the sinful sight of them.

Bucky’s hips stutter as he follows Steve, cumming deep inside his husband with a guttural cry. Both men pant as they ride out their highs, hips jolting in a few weak thrusts before they completely collapse on the bed to bask in their afterglow.

Finally gathering the strength to avert my gaze and turn away, my back finds the wall, head tipped toward the ceiling as I pull deep breaths into my heaving lungs. My thighs press together, hoping to quell the persistent ache, but it doesn’t abate even as the seconds continue to tick by. With little thought, my hand sneaks under my skirt, fingers seeking my own release.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, baby love,” Bucky calls out from his position on the bed, slowly withdrawing from Steve with a muted hiss.

I freeze, caught red-handed and slick fingered. My heart flutters at the discovery—and the sharp spike of panic stabbing through me.

A strong arm wraps around my waist unexpectedly, dragging me into the room. A small chirp of surprise escapes my lips, eyes darting around to lock with the man holding me.

“Oh, princess,” Steve coos, pressing his naked body to my back, hands smoothing down my dress, kneading my breasts for a moment before trailing toward my mound with curious fingers. “Did you enjoy watching?”

I whine high in my throat, turning my head to bury my face in Steve’s neck, smelling the tantalizing musk of sex on his skin. My eyes flutter shut, tongue flicking out to lick over my lips.

Steve sucks a breath between his teeth, palming my sex and petting over the gusset of my underwear. “Sweetheart, you’re _soaked_.”

I nod, mewling at his touch, hips bucking against his hand, seeking out more, more, _more_. “Teddy bear, please,” I gasp, fingers wrapping around his wrist and urging him further.

“Did you behave for Natasha, babygirl?” Bucky interjects, lounging lazily against the headboard, legs splayed wide, perfectly contented to ignore my need.

My eyes flit to him, admiring his chiseled form as I pant out, “Yes, daddy. I was so, so good.”

“And you liked watching daddy and your teddy bear when they were having some alone time?” Bucky asks, head tilting and eyes carefully perusing my trembling, desperate body.

My breath hitches in my throat, Steve shoving his hand into my panties, fingers sliding through the copious arousal between my thighs.

“God, Bucky, you should feel her. She fucking _loved_ it,” Steve moans, pressing closer behind me, fingers delving between my folds, flicking my throbbing clit until my knees collapse beneath me. His arm flexes, supporting my weight against him, keeping me stable and safe.

“That’s quite naughty, baby,” Bucky comments, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He stretches on the bed, nodding his chin toward the spot beside him, a hungry look glinting in his eyes. “Looks like we’re gonna have to take care of it for you.”

“But, daddy, teddy,” I protest softly—voice so weak and wanting the halfhearted objection hardly even registers, “the two of you already had your fun.” My wide eyes find Bucky’s before glancing over my shoulder to Steve, lips sealing together to stifle a quiet moan bubbling up my throat as he continues to play with me.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sugar,” Steve rasps in my ear, nibbling lightly on the lobe as he guides me onto the mattress, hand still stuffed down my panties and tracing my lower lips, “I can do this all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I missed any tags, let me know and I’ll add them! 
> 
> 💜
> 
> Also, here’s my [Tumblr!](http://foxgloveprincess.tumblr.com/) If you want (and are 18+), you can send me suggestions or questions for future chapters. I’d love to hear what others want to see in this story! 😊

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. Leave a comment or kudos—I love hearing feedback!


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